Pictures of Her
by Socrates7727
Summary: There was something so dark and sad about the way Tony was after four months away from the group, away from DC. But Ziva had some questions about the pictures of her she saw taped up in Tony's room... Tiva! Rated M because I'm a chicken. One-shot.


AN I don't own NCIS or any of its characters! Tiva.

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Ziva winced at the deafening roar of an aircraft taking off above them. The ship was loud and full of greyscale and metal-screaming in its bland passivity-and it's lifelessness seemed to have bled into Tony. Even when he greeted them with jokes and nicknames, they seemed more like a cover than a true effort. Forced, perhaps. Once Gibbs' back was turned, he tensed again like he was bracing for the ship to heave or for someone to come up behind him and hit him.

"You still beating yourself up over Jenny?" Tony didn't brush her off with a snarky comment or a joke, though. She'd earned more than that. But the way his eyes pinched at the corners and the way his mouth turned up into a bitter little smile.

"Not as much as I used to." He was trying to reassure her, it seemed, but there was a darkness in his eyes that was anything but reassuring and she didn't like it. With Gibbs and the Captain so far ahead of them, it was near privacy in the metal hallway. Probably the closest thing he'd gotten to privacy in four months, she reminded herself, even if it still felt like the world was watching. But she took another step closer to him, letting her voice drop low enough for only him to hear, and tried to show him with her expression how sincere she was being.

"Still drinking?" Hopefully, he didn't see it as an attack. He didn't glare or move away, though, he just let out a small breath. His eyes stared into hers like gems-beautiful, but jagged now and hardened with pressure-and she had to force herself not to look for more there. For the loneliness or the anger she was sure was simmering just below the surface. For the fear that he might not be called back with them. For the hurt.

"Not as much as I used to." That same intonation but with a little less bite to his words. They seemed more honest, more like a confession than an evasion, and she nodded in acknowledgement. His mouth quirked up into a little _what are you gonna do_ smile. He thought there was no other option than berating himself and drinking away whatever memories or emotions he was trying to escape. That thought panged in her chest.

"You could have called." For the first time since they'd shown up in Cartagena, his face managed to look surprised. Was it that crazy of a thought? She hadn't given him her private line but she had no doubt that he had some way he could have gotten it if he'd wanted to. Maybe he was still angry over the reassignment? Or maybe he didn't trust her as much as she liked to think he did.

* * *

"This is where you've been for the past month?" Looking around the dingey little room it felt more like cell than a room at all. Ziva had been in holding cells that were nicer than this.

"Yeah it's like the squadroom," Tony assured her, fake enthusiasm dripping from his lips. "Only I'm the squad and there's no room." She felt bad for him, honestly, because being away from everyone who cared about him had to have been hard on its own but being stuck in here was- Wait. Her eyes caught a glimpse of the wall above Tony's desk. She felt her stomach drop in shock. Pictures of women, she would have understood, or even pictures of men because ships were boring places but pictures of _her_? And, she noticed, _only_ pictures of her.

"What are those doing on your wall?!" He gave her that customary smug little smirk and ushered her out the door, smiling.

"Hm, how did those get there?" She glared but Gibbs was already moving on to the next lead even if she hadn't moved on. Pictures of her. Tony could have put up anything-she had no doubt he had plenty of nude photographs from his many female _friends_ -and even pornographic magazine clippings seemed to be common among the men. But he'd taped up pictures of her. In a bikini, yes, but that was still a strange choice when a variety of beautiful, fully naked women were available for a few dollars at a newstand. Pictures of her…

* * *

"It's not the same." His eyes were darker and more serious, maybe even a little bit angry. "You get used to seeing someone every day, talking to them, relying on them, and... suddenly, they're not there." Ziva stopped. Gibbs was ahead with the Captain briefing SecNav, Tony was returning to normal agent afloat duties, they would not be missed for a few minutes. She grabbed his arm and yanked him aside into a storage room. Slamming the door closed, she turned on the light and pushed him between two stacks of boxes until he was backed against the wall, just staring at her.

"Do not talk as if I chose to leave, Tony." He was calm, though, contrasting her sudden emotion. But he just looked at her, setting his eyes with hers and waiting for her to let him speak.

"I didn't say you did, Ziva." But she was angry and she backed him up against the wall even harder. She pressed her arm into his chest and braced as if he was going to fight her but he just stood there, watching.

"I didn't leave. You get orders, and you don't always like them-that's why they're called orders. But I didn't leave." Tony just stared at her, breathing hard. He didn't look scared or worried, though, or even angry.

"I didn't say you did." She started to argue, opening her mouth, but he pressed a finger to her lips. "I said it's not the same. I said that, suddenly, they aren't there anymore. But I didn't say you left." Ziva was going to protest and yell at him for something but, with his finger on her mouth and his eyes staring into hers, she didn't remember what.

"You look different," she mumbled through his finger.

"It's been four months," he fired back. "More fishy? Rugged? Hotter?" But she shook her head, his finger still on her lips.

"Older." That seemed to pop his bubble of false confidence. The sunken quality returned to his face and he sighed but didn't take his finger from her lips-why hadn't he?

"It's been a long four months." She pursed her lips at him, at the weight in his voice. It wasn't something she'd never heard before but it was new from him, especially given how he was normally. It seemed even worse because it was him.

"Why is your finger still on my lips?" He gave her a smile, small but real, but didn't answer. "Why did you have those pictures of me in your room?" That same smile, with just a little more of a boyish giddiness behind it. Why wasn't he just answering her? Unless he had a reason to hide it.

"Can't really blame a guy, can you Ziva?" But she shook her head at him, still talking through his finger but now almost used to it. Stepping just a little closer, enough that their chests were touching.

"If you had a lot of pictures, I wouldn't have been surprised. I expected it, actually. But just pictures of me? When you could have had any naked pornstar in the world on that wall?" He just smiled at her. There was a glint to his expression that was almost playful or maybe anxious? Both, maybe, mixed together until they were indistinguishable.

"Just pictures of you?" he chuckled. "You get a little self absorbed in my absence?" She didn't even brush him off or scoff, though, because she could see that he was bluffing. Stalling, trying to buy himself time to get out of the mess he'd gotten himself into. Was he regretting his comment?

"Why, Tony?" She was so distracted searching his face for some indication or cue to what his reaction was going to be, that she missed the little slip of his eyes down to where his finger was trying to silence her. Until he removed his finger. She would have missed the warmth, the contact, if he hadn't replaced it with his lips. Surprisingly, it didn't feel weird or unusual-or even like a kiss, really. It felt more like falling into your bed after a long day, or like hugging an old friend after years apart. It felt like slipping into a warm bath after a fight. Like sitting below the old tree in her backyard in Israel, her feet in the dirt like she was a child again, before the training started. It felt like coming home. To something she hadn't known she was missing.

When they broke apart, Ziva had to stifle a whine in her throat. Already, she missed the feeling. Like she belonged there, with Tony, a way she'd never fit in anywhere else. But he caught her eyes with his, distracting her enough to stop another whine of complaint, and smiled at her as he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Why, Tony?" she repeated. Suddenly, she wanted to hear him say it. To know that this was real and not just four months on a boat of five thousand males. She'd watched Tony get that look in his eyes and that shift in his posture with at least a hundred different women-she didn't want to be just another hole on a punch card. Their history gave her reason to hope but… why just pictures of her?

"Because, Ziva, what other pictures could I possibly want?"

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